The next morning, I called the hospital and was told the clot had not cleared and that discussions were being had with my grandfather for surgery. I grabbed my knitting bag and sped to the hospital. I returned to the dreaded third floor. I saw only my uncle, his red eyes indicated that he had been crying for his mother. They were preparing my grandmother for surgery and my grandfather was in with her alone for the last few minutes before she went in for surgery. My grandfather joined us shortly thereafter, and within the hour, more family joined us and I resumed my knitting.

Sunshine made it through the clot surgery very well. The doctor was able to get the clot with little danger to her losing her leg. “She isn’t out of the woods,” her doctor had warned us, but we were in a celebratory mood. “She’s a tough old bird!” my aunt exclaimed. It would be some time before anyone could see Sunshine while she was in recovery. The crew of us that had been there all day decided to go for dinner.

We drove around the hospital and settled on Chinese. My grandfather and uncle each ordered a lite beer, and I joined them. We all said a toast: “To Sunshine!” We laughed and loved and helped each other ease our pain and worry. The food tasted like food would taste if you’ve only eaten canned foods for a month: every dish was better than the next. I was so emotionally exhausted my beer made me light-headed. My grandfather and I split a second beer, drinking them in tall, skinny glasses.

We returned to the hospital and visited my grandmother. I went in with my parents. My father, being the deacon, prayed over Sunshine. I assumed he was giving her her last rites. She was conscious and seemed relieved to have the prayers said for her.

We went home a bit more reserved than we had been during dinner. The euphoria that Sunshine had made it through the surgery had worn off and we were now concerned about the true success of the surgery. The next morning, things were calm and I went into the office and visited Sunshine that evening. It was a long day, and one in which Sunshine’s stats changed very little. Her leg no longer looked like a dead limb, and that was reassuring.

My sister recognized one of the ICU nurses as a friend with whom she went to grammar school. She told my sister not to hesitate to call throughout the evening for any update. My sister did call, and things weren’t changing. This was slowly becoming alarming. My grandmother should have been getting more stable, but she wasn’t.